


Rewriting A Prophecy

by psychicdreams



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Post Season 5, Romance, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicdreams/pseuds/psychicdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is prepared to make sure Arthur lives, even if it means that he has to take his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the idea that with the Disir, Mordred actually died and therefore this single event caused a rippling effect where both Gwaine and Elyan lived, and Arthur, while heavily wounded, wasn’t destined to die. First Merlin fic so forgive me if they’re not in character.

The woods were quiet as he hung onto Merlin’s shoulders. The Saxon patrol they’d hidden from continued on without pausing. Arthur tried not to moan in pain, instead letting out a soft, pained grunt. The blade the warrior had used had, apparently, been magical in nature. That was all that Arthur had really understood about the conversation between Gaius and Merlin and he could only assume that that made the healing process more…complicated.

A whinny broke out and he heard Merlin yell out. He opened his mouth to say something, only to watch in horror from his position on the ground as his friend was thrown back. Morgana, looking ragged and more than a little insane, moved slowly over to him. “Pleasant to see you again, brother. I see you aren’t long for this world, but don’t worry. You won’t be alone.”

Before he could say anything, do anything other than gasp a bit when she pressed onto his wound to cause pain, some violent force had thrown her back, slamming her against the tree. Merlin was looking downright murderous. As if not even aware of what he was doing, he thrust his hand out and slammed her with the same lightning that Arthur had seen on the battlefield. Though Morgana screamed in pain, she levered herself up and he saw what he viewed as pure madness in her eyes. Their powers clashed again and again, cracking the bark of trees and it was a wonder Merlin could even move. When he did lever himself off the ground, he moved slowly, as if his very bones were broken and he was forcing them to work anyway.

“I am a high priestess! No mortal weapon can kill me,” she hissed, reaching out and sinking her magic into Merlin.

“This…is no…ordinary blade,” was the reply and when had Merlin managed to move close enough to grab his sword? Excalibur was thrust into Morgana with a ferocity he wouldn’t have believed in the gentle soul that was his friend.

“I die…Emrys…but I will take…you with me…”

With a strength that amazed him, Morgana drew the sword from her own body before plunging it into Merlin’s stomach. He heard someone scream and realized belatedly that it was from himself. Morgana slumped to the ground, the life disappearing from her before she hit the earth.

“ _No!_ ”

Arthur crawled his way over to Merlin as he slumped to his knees and pressed his hands to his chest. Before he could even lever himself to his feet, he felt hands gripping his shoulders, distantly realizing that he had paid no attention to the approaching hoof beats. Everything was white noise in his ears. Arthur didn’t even recognize the blood pouring from his wound or the hands of his friends on him. _“Merlin! **Merlin!** ”_

It was Percival and Elyan holding him back, trying to support him, get him on his feet. He didn’t even feel the pain anymore. Something deep in his chest roared at seeing Gwaine and Leon holding Merlin, whose eyes had slipped closed. “ _Merlin_! Are you listening to me?! Open your eyes! Heal yourself, use your damn magic! Damn you, that’s an order! **_Merlin_**!”

Merlin didn’t move and Arthur didn’t know what to do. He knew nothing of magic, didn’t even know the true meaning behind Excalibur until just a few minutes ago. All he knew was that they were heading to the lake because something in there could help Arthur and if it could help him, it could _damn well_ help Merlin. “The lake! Get us to the lake!”

“Sire—”

“ _The lake, Leon!_ If you won’t do it, I’ll drag him myself!”

It was only as Percival was easing him up on his horse and swinging up behind him did Arthur realize that the adrenaline brought about by what happened to Merlin begin to fade and he felt woozy and lightheaded. By the time they reached the lake, it was taking all the power he had over himself to remain awake. Merlin was too pale, he feared they wouldn’t make it.

“We’re at the lake, My Lord,” Leon said, Percival shaking his shoulder to get his attention.

“Get…Merlin down. Something about the lake…can help.”

Elyan helped him down and they laid them both down next to the water’s edge and Arthur waited…but nothing happened. “Why…is…nothing…happening,” he growled. “Merlin!”

“He’s unconscious, My Lord. He has, at most, hours,” Gwaine muttered quietly, shifting the young sorcerer in his arms. His hand fell, the knuckles lightly brushing the water.

As if that was the floodgate, the lake began to glow and lights appeared. They hovered over the group before focusing on Arthur. He leaned back into Percival’s arms. Despite not knowing what this was, indeed that he could look a fool by doing so, Arthur panted out, “No. Not…me. Merlin. Help…Merlin.”

Despite his order, his pleading, he could feel his own wound repair itself. The blood he felt seeping from him stopped and the dizziness that came from blood loss and such a severe wound disappeared. Slowly he sat up and he reached out for one of the lights, but they disappeared back into the lake. “No! _No_!”

He surged to his feet, tripping over them and landing on his knees in his haste to get over to his former servant. He spared no thought to his knights as he gathered Merlin up in his arms. “Merlin! _Merlin, I’m ordering you!_ Use your magic to save yourself! Wake up, please! _Please_!”

Somehow the calmness that he had felt at the prospect of his own death had deserted him. The panic he thought he should have felt for himself had been gone and now he thought he could begin to understand how Merlin had felt when he’d been so wounded and they’d trekked to the lake. An admiration filled him at the thought that Merlin had managed to keep all of this, this pain and grief and fear, bottled up beneath a calm face whereas Arthur just…couldn’t. He had once said that no man was worth his tears, but this was no ordinary man and he felt no shame as they fell from his eyes.

Never once had he ever considered Merlin’s death. He had been confident in his own power to protect him and when he’d learned that Merlin was a sorcerer, had seen his power with his own eyes, his death seemed even more remote. What anger he’d felt, the resentment at Merlin keeping it from him for so many years, seemed petty and stupid when his friend himself was dying in his arms.

“You cannot leave me, Merlin,” he begged. “Not now that I know how much you’ve done for me. How many times you saved me. If you’re not here, who’s going to save me in the future?” He turned to his knights. “Search the lake, find what saved me! It can help Merlin!”

Something was whispered and his breath caught. Merlin’s eyes fluttered once, but remained still. Arthur leaned down, pressing his ear to his mouth, but the words made no sense. Both Elyan and Gwaine had started to wade in the water, to find the beings that had saved the king. He pressed his gloved hands to the wound in Merlin’s stomach, earning the softest of grunts that reassured him that the man was alive, at least right then.

There was a roar from above and Leon yelled, “Dragon!”

Elyan and Gwaine rushed out of the lake as the four knights surrounded Arthur, their swords drawn, but instead of attacking, the massive dragon landed in front of them. He’d recognize it anywhere and his jaw dropped. “You… Camelot…”

“My name is Kilgharrah, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. I have come to the call of the last Dragonlord.”

Dragonlord… He looked down at Merlin in his arms. A sorcerer…and the last Dragonlord on top of it. How many more things had Merlin _neglected_ to tell him? If he was a Dragonlord then… “Save him!” he ordered. “It was _your_ breath that made Excalibur, wasn’t it?!”

“Yes, it was, and I cannot.”

“Why?!”

“Merlin was born, destined to be yours. He exists to help you and help you he has. He has sacrificed more than you will ever know for you and it was through his actions that you are alive now. The death that you were destined to have was thwarted by Merlin himself, but the world craves balance. The prophecy said you were to die at Mordred’s hand and Merlin would live. By saving your life as he had, balance calls for his own death. He _knew_ this. If he lived, you would die.”

Arthur sat there in stunned silence as a surge of bile rose in his throat, the same rage and anger he’d felt when he’d first found out that his father had used magic on his mother to conceive him. “I refuse to believe that our fates are predestined! He is not _destined to die_ because I lived! I will _never_ let that happen!”

“Merlin was—”

“He was not born for this!” Arthur yelled, clutching that fading body close to his chest. “He was born to live, to _smile_! Have you ever seen that smile, dragon?! It makes you want to smile too, it looks like it’ll crack his bloody face, and whenever you see it, that he’s _happy_ , that’s all that matters! I _refuse_ to believe that he was born merely to be my servant, to sacrifice everything he is for me! He was meant to live, to love, to find happiness! He shouldn’t have done this!”

“Your life was more important.”

“Never! No one’s life is more important than his, least of all mine! It is in no way worth _less_ than mine, dragon! If anyone on this earth deserves to live more than anyone, to get that happiness, it’s _Merlin_! Now save him!”

“You do not command me, Arthur Pendragon!”

“No, but he does! Are you really willing to let the last Dragonlord die?!”

There was a moment of grave silence and he heard the shifting of chainmail of his knights as they moved their weight from foot to foot, ready to defend their lord if necessary. “You play with fire, Pendragon. If he is saved, the balance will be lost. There will be no telling the future from there.”

“I don’t care if I die tomorrow so long as he lives! I never _needed_ any prophecies! I’ll make our own future, but I can’t do it without Merlin with me!”

There was a heavy sigh before Kilgharrah began to speak, but this time it wasn’t in a tongue that Arthur knew. The lake seemed to glow again and the balls of light appeared once more. They hovered there and the dragon said something more before they moved forward to hover around Merlin’s wound. It began to slowly close. Despite his clothes soaked in blood, the wound was gone in a matter of minutes. He smiled in relief, running his gloved hand through Merlin’s black hair, but the smile disappeared quickly. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“The wound was made by Excalibur and was very grave. I do not know when he will wake, but Merlin is strong. If there is enough life, enough reason to come back, he will.” Kilgharrah seemed to gather himself before launching back into the sky.

“We ride for Camelot,” Arthur ordered, picking up Merlin who honestly should weigh more than he did.

 “Arthur, what’s going on?” Gwaine asked the king commandeered Percival’s horse and pulled Merlin front of him once he’d swung onto the seat, leaving his knights to sort out who would be riding with who.

“Merlin is a sorcerer, has been since he was born, and is apparently the last dragonlord. He sacrificed himself to save me probably more times than I’ll ever be comfortable with and now we have to get him back to Camelot.”

Percival swung up behind Elyan. “So he’s been hiding all this time?”

“I do not question his loyalty,” he said sharply as he urged the horse into a canter. The betrayed feeling had disappeared in their journey to the lake as he realized that Merlin…was still Merlin. He was still his friend, who wanted to make sure those he cared about were safe. He was still the man that took care of him like a servant even though there was no way Arthur could ever consider him as such again.

“No one would ever question Merlin’s loyalty, sir,” Leon said without a hint of disbelief or doubt.

“The laws will be changed when I return.”

“For Merlin?”

He glanced at Gwaine and shook his head. “Because Merlin showed me that magic itself is not evil. It is what people do with it. I cannot believe that Merlin is the only good sorcerer out there.”

“I’m just saying that if it was for Merlin, it would be okay with us.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“We all know now, that’s all.”

“Know _what_?”

All of his knights gave him odd looks. “About your love for Merlin.”

“ _Love_?”

Leon hesitantly spoke, seeming to take over for the rest, “We might…indeed…be misinterpreting what happened at the lake, but to us it seemed as if…you love Merlin. Not even I have seen you so…frantic before.”

Love? With Merlin? Arthur looked down at Merlin’s unconscious body in his arms. The feelings he’d had back then were similar to that of what he’d felt when Guinevere had been taken…if not eclipsing those. Did that really mean…that he was in love with Merlin? He thought back over to their years together, how he couldn’t imagine any of that life without him. Those grins of his as he seemed to play himself for a fool, how they’d laughed and shared so much… Love?

He tried to put the thoughts of out of his mind. There was no time to dwell on it. It was far more important that they reach Camelot. Merlin needed Gaius.


	2. Chapter 2

Guinevere was there to meet him in the courtyard and even as he hugged her, he was already pulling away very quickly to get Merlin off the horse and carry him in himself. “Gaius!” he called.

The old man was already on his way and he quickly set him down onto the table in the physician’s room. “What happened?” he demanded.

So Arthur told him everything, everything that had been revealed and had happened since they had parted with the older man. He heard Guinevere’s gasps behind him, knew his knights were keen on every word because Arthur had been quiet on the ride back. A wrinkled hand reached out and gripped Merlin’s wrist tightly. “In that case, Sire, I have to say that there’s nothing I can do. The Sidhe are masters of enchantment so Merlin is as healed as he can be physically. If Kilgharrah says he will wake, then he will. We must be patient until then.”

Patient. He had to be _patient_. Arthur slammed his fist into the nearby table to keep himself from coming to pieces, from demanding that someone do something. There was nothing to be done but wait. “You knew about the dragon as well? What am I saying, of course you did. You knew everything from the start.”

“Only I did, Sire. He did not deliberately keep just you in the dark. Only one other person was aware Merlin had magic and Merlin did not tell him.”

“Who?”

“Lancelot, and he took that secret to his grave.”

A tiny bit of resentment flared and he forced it back down. He should be glad that Merlin had had someone to be there for him during the last few years, someone he could talk to. Merlin had said he had refused to put Arthur in a compromising position with the knowledge and it had been then, that night, that Arthur realized just how much Merlin had been willing to put himself last. How much did it have to hurt when Arthur asked him if he should change the laws on magic to say no? Now his reaction made more sense, how he was probably crying inside but saying what was best…for…

“Mordred,” he whispered.

“I’m afraid so, sire. The prophecy stated that Mordred would kill you. That’s why Merlin refused to save him. It…weighed more heavily on him than you’ll ever know.”

He felt his knees go weak and he thumped into a chair that Percival had very quickly shoved underneath him when it appeared as if he wasn’t going to remain on his feet. “If Merlin could heal, then why didn’t he just do that when I was injured?”

Slowly Gaius levered himself down to a stool. “Healing magic is very rare and not many have the talent for it.”

“That’s why you said he was the greatest sorcerer to ever roam the earth.”

“Among other reasons, yes.”

“But if he is so powerful, why couldn’t he heal me?”

“It wasn’t that simple. The blade you were stabbed with was also made of dragon’s breath. Only the Sidhe could heal that. Even that is beyond Merlin’s magic and skill. Perhaps, _perhaps_ if he lived for a few thousand years, he might be able to achieve it, but not now.”

“ _Thousands_ of years?”

Gaius shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Sire. The prophecy made it very clear that Merlin would await the return of the once and future king. It never said how much time would pass before your return, so I can only assume that he would live as long as necessary for that. Since he subverted the prophecy, I’m afraid I don’t think anyone can predict what’s going to happen from now on. I do believe that the circle has been broken.”

“Circle?”

“Merlin told me once that a Druid Seer said that his life and yours were like a great circle and I’m assuming that this has happened before multiple times. Merlin had been determined to stop it.”

Arthur leaned back against the chair in a thump, chainmail chinking as he did so. He could feel Gwen’s hands on his shoulders, but only distantly as he tried to mentally chew on all the information he’d been given. “Gaius, how many times as Merlin helped me and refused to take any credit for it?”

A faint smile touched the man’s old wizened face. “How much time do you have, My Lord?”

“As much time as necessary.”

-0-

Merlin slept for three days and in those three days, Arthur refused to leave his bedside. No matter how much Gwen told him they needed him, he refused. He gave his orders from the physician’s room, signing paperwork there and very rarely sleeping. He had only allowed himself to be bullied into a change of clothes so his armor could get looked at.

He was alone with Merlin when he saw the eyes fluttering. Quickly he dropped the treaty he’d been reading onto the nearby table and leaned forward. “Merlin.”

There was a faint groan and Merlin rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand before opening his eyes. “…Arthur?”

“No, it’s the just the King of Camelot.”

A faint smile touched the sorcerer’s face before it disappeared. “What did you do?”

“What?”

Merlin surged up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and sitting on the edge, staring at him intently. “What did you do to bring me back?”

“You were never gone, Merlin,” he said, seeing the look in those blue eyes and knowing that he had to be the calm one now. “We got to the lake in time.”

“The Sidhe would have healed you. Why am I here? I should be dead.”

“I honestly don’t know what happened Merlin, _really_ ,” he said at the skeptical look from his former manservant. “I was ordering the knights to search the lake, to bring back the…Sidhe, when I heard you whisper something. You were still unconscious, but somehow a dragon arrived. A dragon that I thought was dead,” he added pointedly.

“Kilgharrah. I…must have called Kilgharrah.”

“At least unconscious you listen to my orders.”

“What?”

Arthur shifted, lacing his fingers together in a nervous fashion. “I was ordering you to wake up, Merlin. To heal yourself. Then the dra—Kilgharrah arrived and I argued with him before he spoke with the Sidhe to heal you.  You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Merlin groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “You…idiot. Do you know what you’ve done?!”

“That I’ve broken the balance? That you were supposed to die to save my life? So I’ve been told. This is me not caring. I refuse to let you die, Merlin. It’s just not happening.” He grinned, attempting to inject a little humor into the situation. “Now, do you want to stay my manservant or shall I make a position of Court Sorcerer for you?”

“What?”

“I lifted the ban on magic.”

“You… _what_?!”

“You taught me that not all magic is evil, it’s what done with it. I don’t want to be a king that persecutes and kills those that have done nothing wrong for the sake of those that would do harm.”

“I’m unconscious for three days and suddenly you’re getting yourself into trouble. Guess I have to live to make sure you don’t mess up too badly.”

That grin, the banter, was back and it took all Arthur had not to reach over and hug him. “So? Court Sorcerer or manservant?”

“Hmmm, I like the sound of Warlock better.”

“Fine, Court Warlock it is.”

Merlin leaned forward and made an elaborate display of sniffing. “Well your Court Warlock says you could use a bath.”

“Probably,” he agreed blandly. “I have been informed that the King of Camelot hasn’t left your side since he arrived with you.”

Merlin blinked. “…Really?”

“Really.”

A surprisingly cute blush stained Merlin’s pale cheeks. “I-I’m honored, Arthur.”

“You shouldn’t be, because if you even thought about dying, I would have done something terrible to you.”

“Like what?”

“ _Something_ terrible.”

Merlin laughed and when he stood up, there was no sway to his movements. He looked completely and utterly unharmed and safe. Warmth filled Arthur’s chest as he finally left the seat that he was sure had a permanent imprint of his rear on it. “We’ll have you moved to a room near mine.”

“What?”

“Privilege of rank, Merlin. Besides, I’d rather you be close in case I need you.”

As he turned to leave, now reassured he could stand to have Merlin out of his sight for a few hours, a hesitant voice stopped him. “Arthur, I…” He turned to look at him. “You’re…really not angry with me?”

“Merlin, you’ll always be you.”

“…What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” came the demand at his retreating back.

-0-

Merlin had hoped that things would settle down, but they hadn’t. A week since the battle and the people of Camelot were still licking their wounds. They had to account for the dead on both sides, appoint new knights, and somewhere in all that was supposed to be the feast for his new position. In truth, Merlin didn’t really want a feast and he’d rather it not be a bit to-do, but he could already hear the few advisors that seemed to be all right with the lifted ban already talking about how he needed a new wardrobe. Arthur, much to his relief, didn’t seem to care what he wore so long as he wore something in general.

The King had left it up to him to find a new manservant, but Merlin was reluctant to do so. It wasn’t that there weren’t good servants, but it had always been something between him and Arthur alone. He _wanted_ to say it was nostalgia, but he was well aware that it was his hidden feelings. Like everything else, Merlin had hid his love for the king, encouraging him to marry Guinevere because it was his destiny and frankly, there was no one better to love than her. She was sweet, compassionate, down to earth, and cared about Arthur so much. And Gwen could give Arthur children, something that Merlin couldn’t. The jealousy he’d had, that he’d had to control, had faded once the two had been married because there was absolutely no chance. He refused to hang onto emotions that would make him bitter and taint what he did have with the man he loved.

So he found himself still performing his duties for Arthur regardless, just this time he didn’t bother to hide his magic. Merlin actually smiled when he noticed that Arthur would always stop to watch him do something and he would admit that occasionally he did _perform_ a bit for the king. In between still helping Gaius and still being half of Arthur’s manservant, he now had _other_ duties he had to do. For a position that was only a week old, somehow he already had things he had to do. Thankfully most just intersected with Gaius’ work unless actual magic was called for on something else.

He felt Arthur’s eyes on him more often now, but he told himself they meant nothing. Arthur was just glad he was alive, that’s all. Just when he thought things would calm just a little, his entire world was thrown back into chaos when his role as Dragonlord was revealed in probably the worst manner possible.

Kilgharrah landed, in broad daylight, on one of the arches at the courtyard of the palace and had sent people running and screaming in fear. Merlin ran out blindly, worrying about Aithusa, but slowed to a stop at seeing the older dragon. “Kilgharrah! What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“I wished to see if you’d woken up, young warlock. I see you have.”

“Where’s Aithusa? Have you found him yet?”

“I have. Being captive by Morgana has set him back and he has trouble grasping even the dragon tongue. He is also very malnourished.”

He didn’t really consider that Aithusa had been a captive of Morgana’s, as Aithusa really seemed to care about Morgana and vice versa, but he was aware that Kilgharrah, who loathed her, would definitely see it that way. He didn’t think the older dragon’s hatred for her went as deep as it had for Uther, but it was it was nothing to sneer at.

He felt a presence come up beside him and he didn’t even have to look to see Arthur. A part of him warmed even as he was stunned that Arthur greeted with, “Kilgharrah” rather than ‘dragon’. It was almost a show of respect, to at least use the name, and he found himself grinning fiercely in pride. No one could ever tell him that Arthur was a bad king.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Is there something you want here?”

“Merely to see the Dragonlord.”

Arthur nodded after a minute, but surprisingly didn’t move. He stayed, shifting his weight with his arms crossed and looking prepared to stay there the entire day during the conversation in silent observance. it was a tad awkward, but it warmed his heart that this part of his life was neither being ignored, nor overly focused on. Whenever one of the knights stopped next to him, he waved them on to the next task, refusing to let this become anything other than the King of Camelot and his Court Warlock speaking with a dragon. As if it were an everyday occurrence.

He could only be so lucky.

When Kilgharrah said his goodbyes and was far enough away that he couldn’t see him, Merlin managed, barely, to keep down his squeal of delight. His eyes sparkled with his enthusiasm and he spun to face his friend. Arthur had only a moment to raise an eyebrow and take in his childish delight when, standoffish or not as the blonde often was, Merlin _hugged_ the King of Camelot.

“Whoa, Merlin!”

“Thank you, Arthur!”

Finally the hands that had lifted in the air as if to say ‘I’m not touching him!’ came back down and lightly rested on his hips. “While I do adore praise, I often like to know _what_ I’m being thanked for.”

“Sorry, Arthur, but it’s just…” He leaned back to face the King while not actually letting go. “I didn’t think I’d see this in my life. I thought I was going to die, knowing that you made this world a place of acceptance and peace, but I’d never be around to see it. It felt _natural_ to have Kilgharrah come here to talk to me, to have you there, and it _not_ feel like a big thing. I mean, I know it was a big thing to a lot of people and maybe I was just a little excited and—”

“Merlin… Merlin! Stop talking. Breathe.”

Merlin just… _laughed_ at him and he saw a smile reluctantly overtake Arthur’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t get how great you were and what you did. Wouldn’t want you to get an even bigger ego. We’d have to enlarge the castle to fit it.”

“I believe if you don’t stop talking I shall have your name engraved on the stocks.”

“You can’t just throw your Court Warlock in the stocks.”

“Considering you work for me, I believe I can,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Now. About the preparations for the feast tonight.”

Oh. That. With a long-suffering sigh that Arthur only seemed to relish in, he nodded. An arm slung its way across his shoulders as they walked back into the palace, not noticing the eyes that followed them from a window a few floors above.

No one seemed happier at that feast than Arthur, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and Leon. The five men were beaming, as if Merlin being recognized for his magic were like a present to all of them. It didn’t bother Merlin, he was happy that his friends were overjoyed for him. The clothes that had been made for him were simple but elegant in design, mostly purple and gold, and he could see Gwen’s hand in the way they were made, loose and comfortable and something that he wouldn’t hate.

Arthur rapped on the table to get the hall’s attention after an hour, full of nobles and knights. “Then, Merlin, go ahead!”

Merlin, sitting on Arthur’s left, blinked. “What?”

“Show us some magic.”

He frowned just a little and bent closer, hissed at Arthur so only the king could hear, “I’m not some traveling entertainer meant to amuse.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Arthur replied, leaning toward him in return until their faces were inches apart. “I’m not asking for party tricks, I’m asking for some magic. Show us how beautiful it can be.”

His frown disappeared into a delighted smile now that he knew that Arthur was acknowledging a difference in what he requested. He stood up with a nod and made his way between the tables. Gaius was watching him proudly and he beamed as he held out his hands in front of him and felt the world seep away. He spoke words that rolled off his tongue, eyes glowing golden, and the room itself disappeared into blackness with stars surrounding them as if they were in the night sky. It was merely an illusion, they were all still in their seats, but it was a fairly abrupt transition and left some people shifting in concern. Even Arthur, he noted, grabbed the arm of his chair instinctively to steady himself before relaxing. He braced his chin on his left hand, elbow on the left arm of his seat and his eyes seemed transfixed.

Soon the floor below them colored with greens and the world around the tables seemed to move. He wanted them all to experience the unique sensation of flight, what he had felt like on Kilgharrah’s back. The movements were smooth as the magic dipped them, skimming the treetops and Gwaine actually reached down to touch them, only to encounter the feeling of smooth stone beneath his fingertips even if he couldn’t see it. Merlin laughed in wondrous delight at how those he cared about reacted to his gift.

Because what he was giving them in that room was his gift to them. It was a gift to Elyan, to Percival, to Gwaine and Leon and Gaius and Gwen, and most importantly to Arthur. This was _who he was_ and he wanted to show them all just what their friendship had given to him in return. His eyes met Arthur’s, the color seeming molten sapphire, soft and inviting. Something in his subconscious tugged at him, whispered that he had never seen Arthur look at anyone like that except Gwen and now it was being directed at him, and that should _mean_ something…

Merlin’s face hurt from how hard he was smiling, but he dipped his audience and had them rise to the clouds. With his eyes still locked on his King, he turned to face him directly and held out his hands just a little, eyes glowing brighter gold as he turned smoothly and soon they were seeing what Camelot looked like from the sky. Arthur’s eyes broke from his to take in what his palace looked like from above before returning them to Merlin’s gaze.

_“My gift to you,”_ his eyes said.

_“I’m honored,”_ Arthur’s said in return.

Slowly he allowed his magic to fade until the room became stone and candlelights once more. The silence was broken by Arthur clapping first, followed quickly by Gwen and the other knights. Soon the entire room was a cacophony of the sound and Merlin blushed, unused to being praised in general, much less for his magic.

He stepped forward, intending to make his way to his chair, when he stumbled just a little. “Merlin?” Arthur seemed to jump to his feet in that instant and he felt a hand on his elbow. There was a concerned frown on his face.

“I’m fine, really, Arthur. Just got a bit dizzy. Probably shouldn’t mix alcohol with magic like that.” He could still feel it thrumming at his fingertips, waiting, but he knew that he dared not do another spell with his head muddled like it was or he was risking losing control of it.

Despite the momentary dizziness that quickly passed, Arthur still escorted him back to his seat and the feast continued after a brief pause. It was probably the first feast he actually enjoyed and not because now he was being waited on, but because he felt free. He could talk about anything with anyone that he wanted and he was actually loathe to leave. It was only when _Arthur_ started tugging him up from his seat and toward the door that he realized just how late it was.

“Come on, much more of that and you’ll start to get _really_ drunk,” the King teased and led him into his bedroom, nudging him toward his bed.

“Wow, does this feel different. You having to take care of me for a change after a feast. I could get used to this,” he said as he sat down. Arthur had to actually kneel to tug off his boots and there was just something about seeing the King of Camelot, resplendent with armor, cape and crown, on one knee in front him, doing something for him… As he pulled off the second boot, Arthur looked up and their eyes met. Whatever it was that had gripped Merlin seemed to grip him and the atmosphere changed. His now bare foot rested on Arthur’s knee and the darkness, illuminated only by a candle on the bedside table, was enclosing but not threatening.

Like a magnet, he found himself leaning forward and down just as Arthur moved forward and up. Their lips met in a soft caress, rather than the crash of passion he had always imagined when he’d allowed himself to think of such things. The gloved hand that wasn’t lightly holding his ankle moved to touch his cheek and he heard as their lips broke apart, “Your cheekbones could cut glass, Merlin.”

“Did they cut you, My Lord?” he murmured in reply, their voices hushed and quiet.

“To the quick.”

“My apologies, sire.”

“Never apologize for that again, Merlin,” was Arthur’s husky voice and now their kiss was that rough passion. Merlin’s slim fingers dove into blonde hair he’d dreamed about for so long and it was silkier than he’d ever imagined. Whether it was the drink or something else, Merlin didn’t know, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. They would damn him forever and he could feel both of their bodies pause as they realized what he said, but it was too late. The words could not be undone, could not be unsaid, and it changed things forever.

“I love you, Arthur.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You love him, don’t you?”

Merlin paused, blinking, and turned to see Gwen behind him. “What?” He struggled to make sure his face didn’t pale, that his heart didn’t beat itself out of his ribcage. He had been prepared with a lie for her if she asked why Arthur hadn’t returned to their bedroom until late, but she had bypassed it completely.

“Arthur. You love him, don’t you?”

_“Oh, Merlin…”_

_“I’m sorry, Arthur, I didn’t… I don’t…”_

_His face was blank. “You didn’t mean it?”_

_Damn the wine he’d drank. “I meant it, Arthur. I meant every word of it…but I’m sorry because I shouldn’t have…said it. You’re married, happily married, to Gwen and—”_

_But Arthur surged up and he found himself with his back pressed against the bed, kissed fiercely and blushing at the feel of the King settling between his legs as if it was the most natural place for him. “Shut up and let me kiss you.”_

_“But—”_

_“I love you, Merlin, but your mouth is just a bit too busy with **words** right now.”_

He gulped, but Gwen didn’t seem angry. She just watched him silently, not a glare, not anything. After so many years, Merlin thought he should be an excellent liar and he had been…with his magic. With excuses. Yet now, when it mattered the absolute most, his mind was a complete blank. He looked away, out the windows of the hallway, and said instead, “I won’t come between you two.”

She stepped up next to him, looking down at the courtyard with him. “I love Arthur too, with all my heart…but I just can’t compare to you. Not the way Arthur sees you.”

He felt his heart break for her.

_“I have never loved anyone more than I have you,” Arthur admitted as his hands eased up his naked hips into his lap. The King seemed to struggle to say that and it was because it took him so much that Merlin knew it was true. “I just never saw it until I thought you would die.”_

_Gently he felt Arthur ease inside and he gasped, toes curling into the blankets below him before he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist. “Arthur…!”_

_“God, I love you.”_

“That’s not true,” he muttered. “Arthur loves you.”

“Just not as much as he loves you.” Merlin struggled to find _something_ to say to that, a lie to stop this conversation even though Arthur had told him as much the night before. She continued on before he could decide on anything. “He didn’t come back to our room until very late last night.”

He quickly grabbed at the lie he’d formulated that morning. “He was really drunk, Gwen, and so was I. We must have fallen asleep and he woke up in the middle of the night—”

“Please, Merlin. Don’t lie to me. Not when I know the truth.” She didn’t say it, but he could see the rest of the conversation in her eyes. She knew that Arthur had held him that night.

_He arched his back with a soft cry, blunted nails dragging up the King’s back. Arthur shivered heavily, pressing him into the bed as his movements sped up, became rougher and more passionate than before. “Arthur,” he groaned out, the word being pulled from his very core and he had never felt so **right** about anything than he did this. He finally felt home, felt purely complete, and inside he wept because he knew this couldn’t happen again. He’d rather it didn’t happen the first time at this rate because now at least he’d know what he could never have._

_Thumbs ran over his cheeks as Arthur showered attention on him, marking his neck low enough that his scarf would cover them. “Merlin,” the man chanted, as if his name was a spell. Finally one hand eased between their bodies and he felt Arthur take hold of his erection._

“I’m sorry, Gwen,” he whispered, wincing at how broken his voice sounded. “I…swear…it won’t happen again. We were drunk and…” He bit his lip and lied, “It’s not his fault. I used magic on him. Just once I wanted to know…what it felt like…to be loved.”

But Gwen gave an infinitely sad laugh and touched his cheek softly. “Merlin, we both know that you’d never use your magic on Arthur like that. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but do you think I haven’t known you long enough to know you’re lying? Do you think I don’t know my husband enough to see what he feels for you?”

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say, because it felt like a betrayal. He had revealed to them both almost the very day he’d woken up that what had happened with Lancelot had been Morgana’s doing, but that didn’t take away what had happened before and how it hurt both of them. All Gwen had been doing had been kissing the shade of Lancelot, not even under her own will, and _Merlin_ had slept with the King without any enchantment placed on him. It was infinitely worse. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, Gwen. I should have…I should have said no.”

Her hand left his face and she braced her weight on the windowsill, opening the panes to let in the cool breeze. “Even if you had, it wouldn’t change the fact that you’ve had his heart long before I ever did.”

“That’s not true. He loves you!”

“I know he does, Merlin. I don’t _doubt_ his feelings for me, but I also know that what he feels for me pales in comparison to you.”

_He felt Arthur shudder, heard his soft yell in his ear, and felt the King’s seed pumping into him. Arthur hadn’t asked and even if he had, Merlin would have told him that it was okay. His fingers carded through those golden locks as they basked in the aftermath of their orgasms. “Arthur…?”_

_“I have never…felt so good…in my entire life.”_

_“Never thought I’d hear the day you praise me.”_

_“Don’t get used to it,” the man teased with a soft grin before their lips met in gentle, chaste kiss after gentle, chaste kiss._

“I won’t…do it again.”

“Do you really think either of you could hold to that promise, Merlin? I know how hard it is to resist someone you love. Arthur and I had our…close moments before the wedding and it was a miracle that we didn’t end up in bed before then. Do you really think, with how much he loves you, that he’ll be able to stop himself? Even with the best intentions, it _will_ happen again. I saw how much he cared the moment he returned to Camelot.”

Merlin’s fingers curled into a fist at his side, wanting to touch her shoulder, to apologize over and over, but not knowing if it would be welcomed or not. “What…do you want us to do?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I won’t lie, Merlin: I’m jealous and I was furious last night. Even when Arthur came back, I didn’t sleep at all.” Now that she mentioned it, she really did look a bit sleep-deprived… “I realized in the morning, though, just how lucky I was. It isn’t as if Arthur doesn’t love me, because I know he does, and I love him more than anyone else in the world. If…If it makes him happy…”

“…No, Gwen, that isn’t fair to you,” he muttered weakly.

She actually _laughed_ at him, even though it was resigned and sad. “You two really are…”

“…You’ve spoken to Arthur already.”

“Yes. He said the same thing.”

Merlin stared at her beautiful features, how despite their entire conversation she looked him directly in the eyes. He didn’t see hate or resentment like he expected. He knew that she was angry with them still, how could she not be, but there was also a love there that seemed all encompassing. No wonder that she was such a good match to Arthur…

She touched his hand and said, “I love Arthur dearly, and I love you as a friend. If it would make you both happy…then I can live with sharing him with you.”

He smiled weakly, still feeling as if he wronged her, and tried to joke, “I hope you told him the last two words. Wouldn’t want him thinking he has free reign.”

“Oh I made that very clear. Just you,” she said with a smile. As she let go and turned to walk away he couldn’t help it.

“Gwen!”

She paused, looking over his shoulder, and he said, “I don’t think Arthur…or anyone…deserves you. You’re too…good.”

There was that laugh that made him smile, that had drawn them together as fast friends all those years ago. “You’re right, I probably am,” she teased and deliberately tossed her hair over her shoulder like a spoiled princess. As she had intended, Merlin laughed.

-0-

Merlin shifted his weight, his hips and back sore and really, sitting down at this chair at the round table and really, it was not meant for comfort. He paid little attention to what anyone was saying and he felt Arthur’s eyes glance at him every time he moved. When the meeting was complete, he beat a hasty retreat and wondered if his magic would heal sore muscles.

Hands gripped him, pulling him out of the traffic of the hallway and he turned to see Arthur. “Are you all right, Merlin? I realize that not running your mouth is difficult for you, but I didn’t think sitting still was also a problem.”

The tease could not mask the look of concern in the King’s eyes and he blushed fiercely. Those who passed them cast knowing looks at them, only making his blush deepen. Were they being _that_ obvious? All Arthur was doing was holding his elbow…but apparently their feelings had been abundantly obvious since they’d returned from the battle of Camlann. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “ _Really_ ,” he added to the skeptical look. “Gwen said…she talked to you this morning.”

Arthur’s eyes slid away from his briefly. “Yes.”

“We can’t do that again to her, even if she says it’s all right.”

“I know,” was the whispered reply and Merlin wasn’t even aware that somehow they had gravitated toward each other a little bit more in their quiet conversation.

“Even if it felt…”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

He felt Arthur run his hand through his black hair once. “God, I love you, Merlin and I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “For what?”

“For putting you in this position. Gwen is your friend and I do love her…”

How similar this conversation was to when they’d spoken about magic, and of course Arthur felt that he should take the blame entirely on himself. “I understand, Arthur.” Of course he understood. He was Arthur’s other half, he understood. “No matter how much I love you or you love me…we have to resist.”

Their foreheads touched and Merlin drank in the closeness, knowing that it wouldn’t happen again. Even as he heard Arthur agree, he felt his own heart break. Never again.

They held out for a fortnight, never being alone in the same room together. Apparently it was highly amusing to their friends, the knights that at least one were required to be with them when they merely spoke to each other. Gwaine kept a running commentary when he was forced to be present, but at least Percival, Elyan, and Leon kept their mouths shut. Merlin had suggested that keep Gwen company in the stands as Arthur competed in the jousting tournament held for a visiting king, but it was the Queen herself that said that Arthur would need help. Faced with defying his Queen, who had said it in front of the advisers, knights and said king, and attempting to resist Arthur, he had little choice.

It was the second day of the competition as he removed the armor from his King that it happened. The flap had fallen closed behind them and he had just finished pulling the chainmail off when Arthur had spun on his heel, grabbed him tightly, and suddenly they were kissing like madmen. He felt hands on his thighs, lifting him, and he wrapped his legs around the strong warrior’s waist. “We…can’t…do this…” he moaned as he found himself thumped onto the nearby table he had set out Arthur’s armor on, knocking it to the ground.

“I know,” the blonde haired man panted in between kisses and  yanking at his clothes. “I’m trying to stop. This is…your fault.”

“ _How_ is it…my fault?!”

Finally the assault on his lips ceased and Arthur muttered, “You _really_ don’t know how sexy you are, do you? Fine…I’ll _show you_.”

The next time it happened, it was a mere four days. This time it was Merlin who broke, walking in with Arthur’s lunch and setting it down on the table. He glanced over to the desk, the man leaning back in his chair with his crown still on, staring at a piece of parchment. Something about that contemplative face yet relaxed posture, the beauty that was just _Arthur_ took his breath away. He really only went over to the chair intending on seeing what he was looking at. _Really_. That was all...

Yet he found himself crawling in the King’s lap instead. The simple action stoked a fire in those sapphire eyes and they were kissing fiercely. Hands gripped his rear, pulling their groins close and he let out a throaty moan. “Arthur,” he whispered, feeling hands slide down into the back of his pants. “Arthur, this _has to stop_.”

Finally, finally, one of them admitted a very simple truth. “…I can’t,” Arthur whispered.

They just couldn’t stop once it had been started. Even knowing what they were doing to Gwen, how the whole _palace_ knew what they were doing, couldn’t stop them. They’d tried so hard, done everything they could to separate, but short of one of them leaving Camelot entirely, they’d gravitate towards each other every time.

As Arthur made love to him at his desk, he wished he knew the answer to this problem. Magic could not fix this, could not stop their attraction and feelings for each other. All Merlin could do was offer up a silent apology, begging for forgiveness, as he gave in completely to the one thing that mattered most to him in the world: his King.

He slumped, remaining where he was as they panted from their high, and Arthur’s hand tangle in his hair, urging his head to rest on his shoulder. “Merlin…”

“What?”

“You don’t…mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I…”

At the trailing off, Merlin straightened. “What?”

“Well, you’re… I’m…”

 _Ohhh_. “Arthur? Shut up. I don’t care if you’re the one doing the embracing, you clotpole.”

Arthur laughed a bit and he pulled away to start yanking on his clothes. Hands eased to his hips, stopping pulling his trousers at his knees. Lips were kissing along the small of his back and rear, Arthur having not moved from his seat. “Arthur,” he moaned, pleaded. “Arthur, please…”

“Please what?” Gently he was maneuvered back to sit in the King’s lap, back to his chest.

He sighed. “I don’t know, but I do have things to do today.”

“Just…stay with me for a bit.”

“…Always.”

-End-


End file.
